Caduceus
by Lewd Concubine
Summary: Orochimaru and Voldemort are similar in some ways, but look a little deeper and you'll find two almost entirely disparate individuals. Can they set aside their ideological differences and work together? Or will the appearance of other familiar faces tear their already tenuous alliance apart? Sannin, Kabuto, Team 7, others.
1. Chapter 1

I've been wanting to read something with these two for at least a decade but nope, nada. There is (relatively) plenty of fanart, so why not fanfiction? Today, I hereby rectify this travesty! Presented as a series of connected vignettes for your reading pleasure. Enjoy, and please do tell me if you find any more fics featuring these two.

**Caduceus**

**By: Ryoko (Lewd Concubine)**

The snake hisses before it attacks. Orochimaru doesn't bother to dodge. He thinks it's cute the way this man seems to believe poison will affect him.

"A little presumptuous, don't you think?" Orochimaru gazes at the snake where it is latched onto his leg. He can feel the distant sting of its fangs as well as its feeble attempt at a poison coursing through his veins. The smile that stretches his lips at this can almost be called indulgent.

Moments pass. Orochimaru doesn't move. At first both man and snake think him mad from it, and perhaps he is touched, but this has nothing to do with the reptile now twining about his leg.

Orochimaru stands still for a little while longer. It isn't until the snake begins its attempt to break his bones that he unhinges them himself instead. Popping noises echo as joints separate. Soon, he drops to the ground. Quicker than either can react, he loops himself around the snake's master. Orochimaru's fangs pierce the flesh of his shoulder and he cries out.

"A little present," he says, once the deed is done. The man is frozen in his embrace. Soon, he sags to the ground. Orochimaru lets him go and straightens before dodging the result of a hissed command to _attack_.

"This is what you wanted, is it not?"

The man, at once more monstrous appearing than even Orochimaru, can't or won't answer. Only time will tell the difference.

Orochimaru uses a technique to melt away into the material around him. Beams of green light, issued from a hoarse throat, escort him away.

The man's minions are in a frenzy downstairs. Not that they would have made any difference. The man appears to know this for it is only now that he calls out for them.

Orochimaru watches his prey from a distance. He witnesses the concern or outright naked fear on their faces and knows he has made the right decision.

-.-.-

It is mere months before the one now worthy of a name seeks Orochimaru out.

"I have something for you." Voldemort's voice is a barely intelligible rasp. Orochimaru guesses his toxic present must have hurt him more than most. In this universe, it is sometimes hard to gauge his own strength.

The curse hits Orochimaru hard. He falls and for a moment appears as dead as any other would be under the circumstances. Then he sheds his wounded skin and emerges with new flesh.

"Is that all, then?"

Voldemort regards him with those tantalizing, red-dyed eyes.

"How did you find me?" He tries again, and this time Voldemort answers him.

"You already know." Again, the cold rasp. A shiver passes down Orochimaru's spine despite his lack of fear. It simply feels as though the wind from across an open grave is blowing.

He smiles.

"So, you found it. And here you are."

Orochimaru left a message splashed across the wall that only someone with a piece of his own chakra embedded within would be able to read.

"I'm returning the favor," Voldemort says simply.

It is only then that Orochimaru feels the pulse of an unfamiliar chakra snaking around his own. His eyes widen as his hand automatically slaps the place where the curse hit. Yes, it's there-an insidious presence so much like his own he missed it at first.

Orochimaru throws his head back and laughs.

Voldemort observes him in silence but then finally his pale, lipless mouth twists into something like a smile.

"Your name?"

Orochimaru answers him.

They sit in the waiting chairs and regard each other as if for the first time. Orochimaru is beyond impressed. Again, he thinks that he chose wisely. This will only bring them closer and then, one day...

"Tell me, are your interests truly limited to this country?"

"Perhaps. In the past."

Orochimaru nods in approval. The two settle into something like a companionable silence before beginning to discuss their future.


	2. Chapter 2

Wherein two protagonists become one. Please do take note that I am not British and am far too lazy to pretend to be, even in writing. Therefore, do not expect colloquial accuracy. Thanks for your understanding.

**-.-.-**

Harry first hears the voice while studying. It startles him right out of a paragraph. At first, he thinks someone in the library is shouting. However, upon glancing around he sees that none of the other students nor Madam Pince have lifted their heads from the heavy tomes they are reading.

Harry's hands clutch at the edge of the desk. He pauses and listens. It doesn't come again so he passes it off as his imagination.

A few minutes later, the cry comes again.

"Hey, you."

Again, Harry swivels his head around. Again, no one else seems bothered.

Harry packs up his things thinking it must be some kind of prank. Perhaps its location based and if he moves it will stop. He receives a few odd stares while moving several tables away from his original location. His butt is barely on the seat when the voice shouts at him for the third time.

"Hey, I'm talking to you."

Harry leaves. He thinks maybe this prank has something to do with the library. Maybe someone charmed a book to annoy him. Something like that.

He is getting ever closer to the Gryffindor tower when next it comes.

"Hey." This time, Harry can detect a note of irritation in the voice. "How long are you going to keep ignoring me?"

Harry wonders if one of the items in his bag is the culprit. Perhaps the transfiguration text book. Maybe his quill? With this in mind, he dumps everything in his trunk, strips off his clothes, and proceeds directly to the shower with naught but his wand.

"I can do this all day, you know."

Harry freezes with his hand on the hot water knob. Goosebumps rise on the back of his neck.

"If you keep ignoring me, I'm gonna start singing. Nobody likes my singing. I'm warning you."

Harry lets out a long-suffering sigh.

"What do you want?" Harry asks, despite his better judgment. He doesn't bother to ask for a name. Clearly, the stress is getting to him if his imagination has a voice all its own now. Harry hasn't heard of a spell for this so it must be in his head.

"Hah," says the voice. "Knew that'd get you."

"What do you want?"

"What do I want? I want out of here. But that's not gonna happen without your help."

"Out of where?" It doesn't make much sense at this point, but Harry decides to play along.

"Where do you think, stupid? Geez, I've been screaming at you for days now. You finally hear me and that's what you ask?"

Harry has a bad feeling that this might be Voldemort playing with him.

"Alright," the voice says. "You don't want me here. I don't want me here. So we've gotta find a way to get me out."

"Of where? What are you talking about?"

Definitely Voldemort, though it doesn't particularly sound like him.

"Haven't you been listening at all?" There comes a sigh. Harry is suddenly very self-conscious about talking to himself while stark naked. He turns on the tap and lets the hot water cascade over him hoping it will drown the voice out. It's to Dumbledore after this. No more delays.

"I don't want to be in your head anymore than you want me here." The voice is crisp and clear despite the water pouring over Harry's head. His eyes snap open and he moves forward a step.

"Look," Harry says, "I don't know who you think you are, but this is rubbish." He is starting to feel really stupid. It's a good thing there is no one in the baths but him.

"I'm Uzumaki Naruto and you just wish it was rubbish."

Harry turns the odd name over in his mind and draws a complete and utter blank.

"I'm sorry, who?"

"U-zu-ma-ki Na-ru-to." He notices a strange lilt of an accent to the voice for the first time. "I never quit or run away. You'd better believe it."

It occurs to Harry that he has taken one more step toward becoming a complete and utter loon.


	3. Chapter 3

Orochimaru is unhappy with his body. Sometimes he imagines he can feel it decaying around him. He craves a younger body, but he cannot move until he is certain. While he is aware of many of this world's properties, he does not yet know if this particular technique will work. It is far too important to be left to chance. Orochimaru bides his time and tries not to think of his own mortality. He banishes such thoughts to a remote corner of his mind, very far removed from his ambitious center. Instead, he fills his time with magical research. The memories he has siphoned off of lesser wizards and witches help. Voldemort fills in the rest for him. Or appears to.

The two might seem similar, but Voldemort lacks Orochimaru's imagination and finesse. His methods are too crude for Orochimaru's taste, and his ambitions too narrow. Then there is the matter of the pointless genocide at worst and utter subjugation at best that he plans to commit against the muggles. Orochimaru has no qualms about discarding useless things and even less reservations about killing. This is different.

Orochimaru does not trust easily. He never has, not _really_, and most especially not this past decade. To him, Voldemort was a means to an end. He needed to build his power base here, and how better than by taking control of an existing one? Things have changed now that they are so connected.

Orochimaru ponders the city of London from his perch high above. He gazes down at the stream of colored dots denoting moving vehicles and marvels at their very existence. This might all be an illusion, but it is a clever one that fills him with want. He suddenly feels overwhelmed, as if he has somehow regressed. There is almost too much to learn here.

A faint pop behind him announces the arrival of his new companion. They are much more connected than any two have ever been due to each possessing some measure of the other's soul. It is an ongoing experiment. Orochimaru might not know where the future leads, but he does not doubt himself.

"What do you see in them?" Voldemort is perfectly aware of most of Orochimaru's thoughts and intentions through their connection. He would be alarmed if it didn't work both ways. Instead, he is almost excited. Almost. Momentary challenges are good reprieves when one has eternity with which to grapple.

"Oh, now." He casts the other man a sidelong glance full of mischief. "I'm certain you already have some idea."

Four boys are playing a game in a nearby lot. Orochimaru imagines he hears the sound of the ball even though he is too high up for that to be true. He and his companion watch them scurry across the court for some minutes. It is long enough for Orochimaru to reflect on the somewhat primitive nature of the game. He thinks to himself that while these muggles are advanced in some ways, they are hopelessly outclassed in others.

Voldemort, sensing the thought, gives a dry, rasping laugh.

Then again, these so-called wizards have their flaws too-including an outdated power structure, much the same as in his former world. Then there is that ridiculous game, Quiddich. It is, perhaps, even worse than this one because the wizarding community should be able to produce something much more challenging.

The laughter cuts out abruptly. For a moment, Orochimaru can feel the slight as well. Then Voldemort lets it pass through them both and sends it drifting on the breeze.

"Perception is everything." There is still the ubiquitous lilting amusement in Orochimaru's tone.

"You still have not shared much of the source of your _insights_." The last word is laced with venom, but this only amuses him further.

"I wonder," Orochimaru says, "just what you would do with that knowledge." Lingering in the back of his mind is the thought that Voldemort is not yet ready for it.

"You mistake me," he says, responding to both thought and speech.

"Do I?" _In time_, he thinks, of which we have plenty.

That seems to satisfy him for the moment.

Companionable silence settles between them once again as the night breeze plays with Orochimaru's hair. Then, with a thought of subordinates he must direct, Voldemort is gone.

Orochimaru stays watching for some time more. His world is silent save for the howling wind, but he imagines that far away there is the sound of a ball thumping against the pavement.


	4. Chapter 4

It is fifteen minutes into Harry's first game post-possession – because that is what he is terming it for now. Naruto is oddly silent, but Harry can feel him brushing against the back of his thoughts. Naruto combs through and separates Harry's memories of the game as Harry dodges bludgers and the occasional outstretched arm or runaway beater.

"That is..."

Harry ignores him-

"SO COOL."

-and then almost collides with the side of the stadium. He manages to turn his broomstick at the last second and goes roaring up into the sky, higher and higher.

"Hey, hey, we should-"

"Shut up," Harry says, his voice a low hiss despite the cloud cover. "Leave me alone."

"Geez, you don't have to get so – look out!"

Harry rolls his broom to the left, just barely managing to dodge the rogue bludger. He goes into a dive while keeping an eye out for both it and the snitch. Harry stops when the players become more than just colored dots zipping around below. He hovers and strains his eyes.

"It's over there," the excited voice in his head pronounces. Harry almost feels him pointing down and to the left but by the time his eyes dart over it's already too late.

"I said to leave me alone, Naruto." Harry glides along and cranes his neck searching for that tell-tale flash of gold. "Do you want us to lose?"

Now Naruto is pouting. Their connection, or whatever, seems to be binding them closer over time. It scares the hell out of Harry, but even Dumbledore doesn't know how to fix it yet. He and his invisible companion both know they have to live with it for now. Harry's only comfort comes from the fact that Naruto really, genuinely doesn't like it either. Plus, thankfully, they are too close for lies and half-truths. It would be unbearable if the voice in his skull turned out to be some creep or, worse, Voldemort. Naruto is a pretty okay person, as far as invisible interlopers go. Of course, this is all besides the fact that he doesn't know when to leave Harry alone.

"Hey-"

"Shut up!"

"I'm trying to tell you-"

"Naruto..."

"I'm telling you, it's right over there."

Harry sees it this time. The world becomes a blur as he goes dashing after that small speck of gold. A second later and Harry is raising the magical ball high in his gloved hand. The cheer both inside and outside of his head is deafening.


	5. Chapter 5

The one inside watches and waits. He has been here for quite a long while now and understands much. His host does not yet know of his existence and, if he has anything to do with it, will continue in blissful ignorance until he takes the flesh for himself. He is unfamiliar with the customs of this world, but he has witnessed something like chakra here, except much more mysterious. He does not understand how one can produce something from nothing, among other things. He knows there must be reason and order behind it all. His host has taught him that much through his meticulous thoughts and behaviors.

He is so, so careful when taking the further step of sifting through the man's memories. He only does it when his host sleeps. It would be rude to wake the man, he thinks, and terrible for his plans. He provides his host with pleasant dreams and siphons off his expertise in return. It makes him feel all the stronger when added to his own wealth of knowledge. He knows he will be even more of an asset now, that he will be even more valuable to his master.

Something like nirvana passes through the ghost of Yakushi Kabuto as he watches Severus Snape grind a foreign creature's horn to dust in his well-used mortar. The man's hand pauses during the height of Kabuto's rapture and for a second he thinks he might have ended up on the wrong side of the razor thin line separating them. Then Snape returns to his task.

Kabuto stamps out the fire of his resolve and waits in the cold, empty silence.


	6. Chapter 6

Orochimaru does not sleep easy or often. He employs several techniques to extend his alertness and several more to reduce his body's overall need. Nevertheless, even the most robust shinobi must still acknowledge his or her humanity from time to time.

Orochimaru would never consider the kind of immortality Sasori favors, but he can admit this as one of the possible benefits. He recalls, with mixed emotions, his days with his former partner. It was always Sasori who stood guard during Orochimaru's downtime. Sasori looked up to him and Orochimaru cultivated that into the kind of deep loyalty that curdled into the blackest of hatred when he left. One of his regrets is having to throw away such an important pawn due to his hasty arrogance.

Yet Orochimaru never trusted Sasori, not fully. He does not trust Voldemort either despite the fact he understands the man far better because of their connection. Such an ability is double-edged. Besides, they are too similar in that regard.

Orochimaru considers Sasori's protective carapace another of his former partner's advantages. This, fortunately, is something he can replicate. When Orochimaru must concede defeat to his body's whim-alarmingly, this happens much more often as his vessel ages-he does so inside one of his giant snakes. It is far more his style to slumber inside something organic than wood-like flesh so easily broken.

First, Orochimaru performs the summon. Then he wraps both it and himself in a web of protective techniques. By the time he slips inside the snake it is more of a fortress than the most heavily guarded shinobi strongholds.

The only time Orochimaru ever employed a less effective method post-defection was in his latter days with Kabuto around. This was mostly due to the small size of the rooms in his various hideouts and the fact that he _needed_ Kabuto. Such a display would undermine the illusion of trust. Orochimaru never felt it, not _fully_, but then he always was an excellent actor.

Now, though, he has no need for the pretense.

Orochimaru slips inside his snake for the night and dreams of a solution for his all too human needs.


	7. Chapter 7

Orochimaru does not need a wand to do magic. Molding chakra is a basic skill everyone who wants to become a true shinobi must master early on. Magic is no different. Orochimaru can feel the new force moving through his very blood. He can feel its centers, its paths. He knows where it eddies and where it twines about his chakra.

Orochimaru demonstrates his refined control when he performs his first spell ever: the Imperius Curse. He does this wordlessly and without a wand. His gestures and his intent are enough. Once affected, his specimen for the night stands stiffly waiting for orders while Voldemort's jaw drops.

Orochimaru very much doubts anyone else has seen him like this.

It is one thing to know something is possible and quite another to see it enacted, he thinks. A kind of giddiness fills him, drowning out his amusement at Voldemort's expense.

His companion has recovered now, but doesn't say anything. He simply watches Orochimaru with something like respect in his gaze. It's one of the strongest emotions Orochimaru has felt from him.

He smiles and sends his orders through the vibrant mental link he and his specimen share.

"Crucio," the man says, his wand pointing at himself. Orochimaru lets him crumple to the floor and twitch.

"Small mercy." Voldemort reads his open intent to have the man keep casting it on himself until he expires. "He'll be dead by morning."

"Oh, now. We must be more specific than _that_."

Voldemort does not sneer at the stopwatch dangling from Orochimaru's fingers. If there is one thing Orochimaru has taught him thus far, it is to keep an open mind.


	8. Chapter 8

It is a scene so familiar that it aches. Orochimaru observes from the shadows without giving away his position. It isn't hard. These are very young wizards not yet indoctrinated in the art of their craft. They still have hands and feet to kick and punch, though.

Orochimaru waits until they are finished beating the odd one, the different one. _The mudblood._ He is strong and fierce but no match for boys two years his senior. They use and then discard him when they've had their fun.

This tough street urchin doesn't stay down for long. He bares his teeth in an almost bestial manner as he tries to rise.

It's a nice look.

Orochimaru emerges from the shadows just as the youth stumbles to his feet. The boy stiffens when he notices him-and how odd he must look to these British people-but doesn't say anything. Instead, a nearby light explodes and shards of glass fall like rain for a moment.

Both Orochimaru's posture and chakra are calming, relaxed. He smiles.

"You hate them, but I wonder if that is enough."

"Enough?" The boy manages to rasp out a response despite his wounded throat.

Orochimaru steps forward and extends his arm slowly enough that it won't be seen as a threat. He uses a low-level healing technique on the youth's neck.

"Enough." Orochimaru turns his back and takes a few steps before looking over his shoulder. "To beat them."

He walks and Oliver MacPherson, nine-years-old and on the run from his abusive grandmother, clenches his fists and follows.

He is too young for magical school, much less a wand of his own. This, of course, makes him the perfect candidate for Orochimaru's purposes.


	9. Chapter 9

Orochimaru is not himself. Gone, is his coldness, his calculating gaze, his deadly aura. He laughs instead. His eyes are free and warm if only for the moment.

Wind whips Orochimaru's long hair around and ruffles his robes. His obi is like a dead weight around his waist. He brings his fingers down and thinks of cutting it off. Despite feeling freer than he has in an age, he remains practical. Instead, Orochimaru grips the stick tight between his legs and lets go.

It is Orochimaru's first time truly _soaring_ and he wishes it could go on forever.


	10. Chapter 10

It's the screaming that wakes him.

Sirius's eyes are wild when they snap open. He claps his hands over his ears and curls into the fetal position.

The screaming doesn't stop. In fact, it only gets louder.

The voice is male and Sirius is now pretty sure it's coming from inside his head. He would wonder if this was finally it, if his suffering might end soon, but that is a happy thought and he doesn't have those anymore. He hasn't for years.

"Peter?" he asks, finally. Sirius's voice is small and alone. "Is that you?"

The voice doesn't stop. It can't stop, Sirius thinks, not with the dementors so close. Closer and closer. He can feel them right outside the door. It's been a long, long time since they've been this interested in him.

Sirius rocks himself while the sound of dry, raspy breathing fills the room.

"No," he says, and soon it becomes a mantra.

The doorknob rattles and the door creaks on its hinges. The dementor wants inside. It wants _him_.

But Sirius won't let it happen. He transforms just before the door bursts open to hit the wall.

He's mine, Sirius growls out. You can't have him.

The dementor pauses on the threshold, it's awful face swinging to and fro as it searches for them. Sirius and the now silent voice run between its legs and out the door.

-.-.-

It is Valentine's Day and all of Britain, both magical and muggle, is celebrating.

It makes Sirius, who is still shabby looking despite months of freedom, stand out all the more. He shaves and cuts his hair down to nothing, hoping that at least the muggles won't recognize him. It's hard being on his own and cut off from everything he knows, but Sirius manages.

It took some time, but eventually Sirius realized the voice wasn't Peter at all. Sirius doesn't feel entirely sane but he knows he isn't nearly creative enough to come up with _this_, especially while in Azkaban.

Jiraiya senses the direction of Sirius's thoughts and urges him to focus on their present task.

"Remember, there might be others of my kind here. It could be very dan-"

And at that moment he notices a nearby attractive lady and he urges Sirius to approach her.

No, Sirius thinks and does not say-he's well aware how crazy that would look. He ignores Jiraiya's commentary on social integration and his alleged eagerness to experience foreign things. (Women, you mean.)

Sirius never imagined a voice in one's head could actually seem to pout. It's one an odd sensation.


End file.
